


Dreams and Angel Wings

by Bitter_Baristas



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Reborntale, Alternate Universe - Underswap, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Genocide Run, Suicidal Thoughts, Underswap Papyrus, Underswap Sans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-13
Updated: 2017-04-13
Packaged: 2018-10-18 06:51:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10611534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bitter_Baristas/pseuds/Bitter_Baristas
Summary: If this was a dream, Papyrus didn’t care. Dreaming of Sans was better than waking to find him gone. He’d dream his life away if it meant he was with Sans.





	

It was a mistake. It wasn’t real. It couldn’t be.

Papyrus' soul oozed in his chest cavity, melting into an unrecognizable shape as he stared at his brother’s battered body held tightly in his arms. The tiny skeleton smiled at him, as if his HP wasn’t at one and declining steadily. Smiled at him as if his bones weren’t cracked and his soul wasn’t flickering, its light threatening to extinguish in a wisp of smoke.

A crack ran along one of his eye sockets, teal eye lights dimming and tears dripping down his cheekbones. Fury flared inside him, his sights narrowing on the human responsible. They had put some distance between them, tossing an apathetic glance back to the skeletons. If he had been quicker, this wouldn’t have happened. If he’d left the house five minutes earlier he could have stopped this.

His fingers clenched into fists, rage coiling within him. Sans shifted in his lap, a whimper regaining his brothers attention.

“Papy… don’t.”

Papyrus would wonder later if Sans was trying to save the human or simply trying to extend their final moments together. Right now, however, it wasn’t of consequence and the heat of fury extinguished instantly. Strangled sobs wrenched from Papyrus' mouth and a shaking hand rose to cup his face. He pressed his large hand over the trembling one, holding fast.

“Sans, Sans hold on. Don’t go, Sans don’t go. Stay with my buddy.” He poured his magic into his brother's broken body, tangerine smothering weakly pulsing blue. He gave until a small voice asked him to stop.

“Papy, it’s too late.”

Sans was right. His body was already beginning to dissolve into dust.

“No, Sans no! Stay with me, please, Sans... Don’t leave me.” His voice was not his own, raw with agony and unfamiliar.

The dying skeleton forced a smile, a thread of crimson streaking down from the corner of his mouth.

“I love you Papy.”

Sans burst into dust, leaving nothing behind but his battle body and his brothers shattering soul.

Papyrus sat numbly, dust slipping through the gaps of his fingers. He remained unmoving for a long stretch of time, unable or unwilling to process what had happened.

Finally he stood, blue scarf billowing in his grasp. He turned away from the painful sight. His mind was blessedly empty, and yet orange tears continued to slide in rivulets down his cheeks. He found himself walking into Muffet’s, unaware of the hush that befell the bakery.

His body had disconnected from his mind, moving habitually as he slumped into a seat at the bar, mouth ordering a bottle of honey. Muffet hesitantly brought it, her voice wavering when she asked the question,

Was Sans… gone?

Papyrus rose so abruptly his chair tipped back. His torso jutted forward, orange magic smoldering in his left eye socket and palms slamming on the countertop. Someone was shouting. The woman winced and stumbled back, fear and hurt coloring her face. Her typically easy-going customer stared at her vacantly, emotions warring beneath his empty expression.

The skeleton guiltily averted his gaze and stuffed his hands in his pockets, mumbling a vague apology before shuffling out. Snow drifted down from above, soft and beautiful. Had Sans been here his pupils would have burst into stars as he twirled excitedly. Nevermind he had witnessed snow a thousand times before, it always inspired wonder in the small skeleton. Papyrus' soul squeezed painfully.

He didn’t remember walking home, or climbing the stairs to stand outside of Sans' door. Was it minutes or hours he stood there, hand poised over the knob? Papyrus knocked stupidly, half hoping Sans' voice would call through the door to invite him in.

Silence.

Pushing into the room he crumpled onto the bed, screaming into the blankets. His wails bounced around the cold room, against the walls his brother had decorated with posters and photographs. The book they’d been reading sat on the nightstand, reminding him he’d never read Sans another bedtime story. A fresh wave of tears poured from his eyes and he grabbed the book, hugging it to his chest.

He slept there that night, inhaling the smell of detergent and his brother. In the fitful throws of a nightmare he could’ve sworn he heard Sans shushing him, petting his skull until he fell into a dreamless slumber.

He didn’t leave the bed in the morning, or afternoon. It was purgatory in the stuffy darkness of the blankets, willing the events from yesterday to be nothing but an awful nightmare. He waited for Sans to come and call him a lazy bones, to shake him awake for breakfast tacos and walk him to his sentry post. And when he didn’t, the realization hit him again.

Sans was gone. 

While he grieved, Chara’s massacre continued.

While he was paralyzed by anguish, his friends died. 

Days passed before Papyrus dragged his body out of the house. He stumbled without direction through the deserted town, uncaring of the dust that left a residue of death on everything. His legs took him to the forest at the edge of Snowdin, where Sans had died.

The pile of dust had been scattered by wind, his footprints still pressed into the ground.

It felt unreal, like a joke was being played on him. If he looked up Sans would be there, beaming at him and eager to relay the happenings of his day. He’d run to hug his shellshocked brother, knocking him backwards from the force of his excitement, arms wrapping around his waist and blue eyes sparkling.

Wetness bubbled up from his sockets and Papyrus squeezed his eyes shut. He should turn away, the disappointment of looking up would surely crush him. His chin wobbled as his eyes opened to see nothing but snow frosted fir trees.

A sharp needle of pain to his soul made his knees buckle, the physical agony a surprising reprieve from the devastation he was drowning in. Curling into himself, the thought flashed in and out of his mind.

This pain would stop if he were dead.

He’d be with Sans.

Quivering hands summoned his soul. Its edged were blurred like a soft block of butter that Sans liked to leave out on the counter, cutting off hunks to grease pans. The trivial memory caused the same lightning bolt of pain and the tremoring, honey hued soul tried to shy away from its owner.

Two thumbs pressed into the malleable surface, pain stabbing his entirety when he pricked a hole in the vulnerable lifeforce. Magic began to leak out. If he stopped now the magic would clot and heal itself, but his resolve was suddenly weak. The pain was extraordinarily, and he doubted he could crush the life from his soul.

Sighing, he stroked his soul apologetically and returned it to his chest.

With nowhere else to go he turned, freezing mid-step.

Across the clearing, standing in the same spot he’d confronted the human, was Sans. Unlike his imagination had portrayed his deceased sibling, this look-alike wore no smile. His expression was sorrowful, eye lights hazy. Papyrus felt a chill travel along his spine, as if those familiar blue eyes were looking straight through him. Sensing he was being studied, Sans snapped to attention. He focused on Papyrus with unnerving intensity. Papyrus winced, forgetting that Sans couldn’t be there, alive and glowering at him as if he’d missed work again.

Something above Sans' shoulder twitched and distracted Papyrus from his unasked questions.

In an instant he took all of his brother in, mystified by the feathery, pale blue wings that fluffed self-consciously under his observation.

Sans had sprouted wings.

Sans smiled brightly, and as if reading his mind, flapped the angel wings. They propelled him a few feet into the air, fluttering to keep him levitating.

“Hi, Papy.”

If this was a dream, Papyrus didn’t care. Dreaming of Sans was better than waking to find him gone. He’d dream his life away if it meant he was with Sans.

Fantasy or reality, relief washed over him and Papyrus dashed across the field, arms outstretched to pull Sans into a hug. Just before he could wrap Sans in an embrace, the peculiar wings swept back and pushed forward, pulling Sans away. The angel avoided looking at him, mouth curved downward and brow bone ridges furrowed in a tentative expression.

“...Sans?” He crouched, peering at the creature with concern. Sans' grimace morphed into a sad smile and he reached to touch Papyrus' cheek, hand hovering just above the bone.

“May I touch you?”

In any other situation, Papyrus might have snorted. Instead of replying verbally or scoffing, he covered Sans' hand with his and pressed it to his face. An image of Sans' death assaulted him, but the touch on his cheek was heavy and real. This couldn’t be imagined.

In a flurry of movement Sans flung his small body over his brother, clinging to his hoodie and blubbering incoherently into his shoulder.

Papyrus returned the embrace fiercely, shedding his own tears. The wings curled around him, shielding him with sky blue softness. Sans withdrew, wet trails shining on his face.

“I’m sorry I left you Papyrus.”

The chilling words confirmed that Sans had indeed died. Papyrus chose to ignore the implications of such a thing and shook his head.

“You’re here now, that’s what matters.”

Sans blinked and tried to break free of the unrelenting hold. He held himself at arm's length, seemingly debating something.

“I can’t stay,” he said eventually. “I came to say goodbye, that’s all.”

“What? You have to stay!” Papyrus desperately seized him, grip harder than he’d intended. “Please, don’t leave me. Promise you won’t leave.” He dissolved into tears, but he was too far gone to care. The emotional roller coaster of losing Sans and getting him back just to have him taken away again was too much. “Please,” his voice broke. “You can’t leave me.”

Sans looked at him sympathetically. His wings encased Papyrus, their foreheads pressed together.

“I’ll be with you forever.” Teeth clanked against his forehead. “Please don’t hurt yourself anymore, Papy.”

A gust of wind hit them and Sans disappeared.

Papyrus gasped awake, hands clawing at the snow. Dull pain throbbed in his skull as he sat up, blearily trying to understand what had happened.

He was still in the clearing, and it appeared he had been heading to town when he’d collapsed. He didn’t remember passing out. Papyrus checked his stats, finding them low.

The skeleton strained to mentally retrace his steps. He’d visited Sans' dust, tried to crush his soul and then Sans had been an angel.

The logical conclusion that Papyrus denied was that he’d tried to go home and passed out from his self inflicted injury, hallucinating the rest. On all accounts it made sense, but the experience had been too real to be a fever dream. Papyrus had drunkenly hallucinated before and it was nothing like what had just happened.

Staggering to his feet he continued onward, nursing his ribs. They had taken the brunt of the damage, and some healing candy would fix them. With that in mind he returned to town, noticing now that no one was there. All the shopkeepers, the citizens, and the Royal Guard dogs were gone.

Comprehension dawned on him with rage.

Chara.

He took the healing candy from a ransacked shop, making sure his health and energy were maxed. The air fizzled around him as he teleported, leaning lazily on a pillar.

He waited.

A child’s footsteps echoed on the polished floors.

This, this was the end.

Papyrus revealed himself, his posture deceitfully relaxed. The child stiffened, sinister grin contorting their lips. They moved into a fighting stance, the knife that had dealt the killing blow to his friends glinting in their hand.

His left eye flared with magic, the right a black pit.

“You’re in for a bad time.”

They fought for what could have been an eternity, his bone attacks skewering them and Gaster Blasters vaporizing them countless times. Each time they came back more determined to finish their decimation.

He was so tired.

Sans had died showing this monster mercy.

Papyrus laughed, the sound hollow. His end was nearing, exhaustion weighing heavily on him. Well, it was worth a try.

He opened his arms, smile playing across his features. “Come on buddy, just lay down your weapon, and well, it will make my job a lot easier.”

Chara eyed him strangely, thrown by this turn of events. They regarded him carefully. Something overcame them, the dark aura surrounding them breaking. A true child's joy filled them and they let the knife clatter to the floor.

“Finally, buddy, pal. I know how hard it must to make that choice. To go back on everything you’ve worked up to. I want you to know… I won’t let it go to waste.” He motioned for them to come closer, arms still open welcomingly. “C’mere, pal.”

They began to cry, throwing them into his arms as Sans had done a hundred times. He laid a boney hand on the back of their head and held them, guilt nagging uselessly at him. Bones sprung from the ground, impaling the human. A dark part of him enjoyed their stunned expression.

“Get dunked on!” leaning to whisper into their ear before they died, his voice dipped low. “If we’re really friends, you won’t come back.”

They returned wrathful, and as he dodged their swings the futility of it all struck him. He could stall them a while longer, but it was pointless.

“How do you think my brother felt?” the question was rhetorical, but it gave Chara pause. “He believed in you. He spared you, showed you mercy.” Blackness filled his eye sockets. “And you betrayed him.”

He leapt forward, gripping their soul in blue magic. Thrashing them against the walls, the floor and ceiling, he decided he could hang on a little longer.

Papyrus thought for a moment that he might have actually won by tricking the human with his special attack. It was for naught, their blade slashing into him.

Red numbers flashed. This was it.

“Welp, I’m going to Muffet’s. Want anything Sans?”

He limped aside, blood splattering in large droplets. Ragged breaths hissed between clenched teeth as he lowered himself to the floor, facing his reflection. Dark circles revealed how little stamina he had left, sweat clung to his skull and it was getting harder to breathe. Darkness filled his vision, the world vanishing around him. His bones rattled as the life left him. His soul faded out and the feeling of serenity eased him through his final moments.

The oblivion that surrounded him dwindled, leaving awareness. It was like waking up with a hangover, the sun blinding in the sky.

Sky? Papyrus jerked to alertness. He was outside, under an open expanse of sky that was definitely not in the Underground. He was atop a hill overlooking a valley crowded by wild flowers, the air perfumed with their sweet scent. Birds tittered in nearby trees. It was unlike anything he’d ever seen.

“Papy!” his cherub of a brother soared overhead, gliding down to meet him. He landed softly. His mouth parted to say more, but the words escaping him.

Papyrus wasn’t sure who moved first, but he never wanted to let go of Sans. They held each other for a long time, weeping and smiling. The breeze caught something on Papyrus’ back and he looked around, confused. Giggling, Sans ran gentle fingers over the leathery wings that extended from his shoulder blades. The exploratory fingers trailed over the curled horns that had appeared on his head, his grin widening. Seeing Papyrus’ questioning look, Sans laughed good-naturedly.

“Killing the human kind of ruined your chances of being an angel, Papy.”

“What... what am I?”

Sans shrugged, then grinned. “You're my brother, silly.”

The joke eased Papyrus and he chuckled. “Yeah, always.”

Sans sat beside him, lacing their fingers together. They leaned on one another, leaving the questions and explanations for another day.

They were together now. That was all that mattered.

**Author's Note:**

> Hopefully this was okay. I do not own Undertale or any of its wonderful AU's. Reborntale was created by skellyhell on Tumblr, and bless their soul for giving me a new thing to obsess over.  
> I'm not usually one for writing multi-chapter fics but this I could really get behind. Maybe. Meh.


End file.
